


Sexual Healing

by Love2Slash



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Doctor/Patient, Embarrassed Will, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Medical Examination, Phone Sex, Psychotherapy, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Identity, hypnotherapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love2Slash/pseuds/Love2Slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is experiencing problems of a sexual nature and plucks up the courage to ask his psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, for help.  Jack Crawford once asked Bedelia du Maurier how far she thought Dr. Lecter would go in his therapy to treat a patient, specifically Will Graham, so just how far will he go to help Will with his sexual problems?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You seem very tense this evening, Will. More so than usual.”

Deep in his throat, Will hums his agreement with Hannibal’s seemingly casual observation but he says nothing – only shifts a little in his chair.

Hannibal’s lips curve at the corners ever so slightly, although he quickly quells his urge to smile at Will’s self-conscious fidgeting. He doesn’t want the younger man to think his psychiatrist finds him amusing, especially as he seems in a particularly sensitive mood tonight. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” he asks, his voice low and gently probing

It’s so very rare for Will to make full eye contact with Hannibal that he’s learned to savour those precious moments when he does, the way one would take delight in the sweet sharp tang of fresh kidneys or the rich creamy texture of lightly poached brains. Tonight, however, Will only seems to have eyes for his hands which he twists endlessly in his lap.

“Come on, Will,” Hannibal coaxes. “I can see there is something bothering you. I cannot help you if you do not tell me what it is.”

Will clears his throat. “There is something I want to talk about,” he admits. “I wanted to say something for a couple of weeks now.” 

Hannibal waits. 

Will sighs. “Well, it’s that ... well, I’m having problems,” he confesses. “Problems of a – a sexual nature.”

Again Hannibal has to resist the urge to smile. Poor Will. He’d wondered how long the man would go before admitting to this particular side-effect of his medication. 

“I see.” Again he waits and when Will still doesn’t speak, he continues. “You are having trouble achieving or sustaining an erection?” he enquires.

An embarrassed, explosive snort suddenly shudders out of Will’s tight chest, causing his shoulders drop slightly. “Uh, actually no,” he says. “Quite the opposite.” 

And then it’s suddenly there. The moment Hannibal has been waiting for – that quick flash as Will’s eyes lift, his dark lashes fluttering. Their eyes meet. It’s only for a few seconds but it’s enough. The air suddenly tastes of electricity and Hannibal licks his lips.

“What exactly do you mean, Will? Are you saying you are experiencing delayed ejaculation or orgasm or is it that you’re unable to achieve orgasm at all?”

“Uh, uh, yes,” Will says, nodding vigorously. “Both. I mean, at first it was, um, delayed but now ...”

 _He looks so very pretty when he’s blushing,_ Hannibal thinks, narrowing his eyes.

“So you can easily achieve an erection but you are unable to reach either orgasm or ejaculation while participating in sexual intercourse?”

“Well ... it’s not that it's _intercourse_ as such,” Will explains. “I mean, I don’t – um, I mean lately I haven’t ...”

“You haven’t had any sexual partners recently?”

“No.”

“But you still can’t achieve either orgasm or ejaculation through masturbation?”

"Um, aren't they one and the same thing?"

"Orgasm and ejaculation?" Hannibal raises his eyebrows. "Actually, no," he says. "That's rather a common misconception. For most men, they happen at the same time, whereas some men will ejaculate before orgasm, others after, and some won't ejaculate at all. Still others may ejaculate but fail to orgasm. Now, from what you say, it sounds to me like you would normally experience both at the same time but recently are unable to achieve either."

Will fidgets and sighs. “Um, yeah, that sounds about right,” he admits.

"Have you suffered from anything like this before?"

"Um, no, no, I don't think so."

"So when was the last time you actually experienced orgasm accompanied by ejaculation, would you say? Approximately?"

Will squints up at the ceiling. "Probably about three weeks ago," he says. "Maybe four."

"And this was through masturbation?"

Will nods.

Hannibal smiles gently. “How often do you like to masturbate, Will?”

Will shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “Two, three times a week, maybe.”

“And what do you generally use for stimulation? Porn?”

“Sometimes,” Will says, "but generally speaking, I don’t need porn." He taps his head. "I have my imagination, remember?"

"Ah, you mean you like to fantasize? What kind of fantasies arouse you the most, Will? Do you have a favorite?"

"Doesn't everybody?" Will counters. The nervous smile is back, twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Actually, no," Hannibal replies. 

"Do you?"

"Will, we're not here to discuss my needs. We're here for you."

Will nods then takes up plucking at imaginary threads on the thighs of his pants. "Uh, well, there is one fantasy I always go back to," he says. "Like, usually it never fails, but ... uh, well, it hasn't worked for me recently."

"Tell me," Hannibal says, his pen poised over his notebook.

Will hesitates, eyeing the book nervously.

"Will, there is no need to worry," Hannibal says softly. "Everything you tell me is always in the strictest confidence. These notes are for my own benefit only and will never be shown to anyone else."

"I know that," Will says. "I do trust you. It's just that ... well, you know."

"You're not used to talking about sex?"

"Not about my fantasies, no."

"I can understand that sexual fantasies wouldn't be at the top of most people's topic lists for conversation," Hannibal concedes. "It's something that's rarely discussed, even with good friends, and although sexual fantasies are a universal phenomenon, we often consider our deepest sexual thoughts to be too weird or too perverse or just plain embarrassing, but I assure you, nothing you could say here today would shock or surprise me and it might even help me to treat you." He waits, his eyes on Will, hooded and intense. 

Will takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay," he says, his eyes on the floor somewhere between himself and his pychiatrist. "Um, well, this particular fantasy, it always starts like back when I was a cop." Will hesitates as his eyes dart up and search Hannibal's face. Hannibal hopes his expression is reassuringly encouraging, and so it must be, for a second or so later Will continues. "I get a call about a disturbance," he says, "in a bar, and so I go - I'm on my own - to arrest these guys, but they ... uh, somehow they overpower me, and then ... well, then they strip off my uniform." He stops and coughs, an embarrassed splutter behind his hand.

"Go on," Hannibal tells him. "What do they do next?"

"Um, well they use my own cuffs on me and then they ... they lift me up and put me somewhere and hold me down, like usually on a pool table or something." He stops, looks up, hesitates again. "Well, you can guess the rest," he says gruffly.

"You don't want to tell me?"

Will waits, seems on the verge of continuing but then shakes his head.

"Okay, then," Hannibal says. "I'm guessing they take it in turns to rape you while forcing you to pleasure them orally. My dear Will, you needn't look so surprised. This is a classic fantasy enjoyed by many, many people, both and male and female alike. The important thing to remember is that rape fantasies do not condone violence or mean that you actually want to be raped. They're about relinquishing control and being able to completely surrender, which is why you describe yourself as being stripped of your uniform. You'd be surprised how many people in positions of authority and responsibility fantasize about being overpowered and forced to surrender in this way."

"So what are you saying?" Will asks. "That it's normal then?"

"Completely normal," Hannibal confirms. "Though the fact that it hasn't worked for you lately suggests to me that you feel temporarily unable to put aside your responsibilities. It tells me that you are actually under a great deal of stress. This is good, Will. We are making progress already." 

Will seems quite pleased by this explanation, letting out another deep breath, of relief this time, as he sits quietly waiting while Hannibal dutifully makes some more notes in his notebook. 

"What about nocturnal emissions?" the doctor asks without looking up, his voice coming so suddenly in the stillness of the room that it makes Will jump. "Have you experienced anything like that recently?”

“Uh, what? Nocturnal ...? Oh, you mean ... like, like wet dreams?” Will shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“In the last few months at all?”

Again, Will shakes his head. “I can’t even remember the last time,” he says. “I must have been, what, like fourteen?”

“Interesting,” Hannibal says as his pen scratches quickly across the page of his notebook. “Okay, Will,” he says, closing the book and putting it on the glass tabletop beside him. “Firstly, I want you to know I’m sure I can help you but first you have to try and lose some of your inhibitions. I can see how embarrassed you are when you talk about these subjects but I can assure you there is absolutely no need to be. You know you can place your absolute trust in me, don’t you?” 

After a second, Will nods gratefully.

“Secondly, I want you to know that sexual dysfunction is a very common problem in those suffering from mental illnesses, and is also a frequent side effect of certain antidepressants and anti-anxiety medicines used to treat those kinds of disorders.”

“So it could just be my meds causing this?” 

Will seems somewhat relieved by this news. At last a legitimate reason for Hannibal to smile.

“Yes,” he confirms, “but it is important for a physician to make every effort to also rule out other causes, because the nature of any future therapy and prognosis depend upon it. Therefore, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to send some samples of your blood and urine to the lab for tests.”

Will takes a few seconds to absorb this information. “Uh, yes, I guess that's okay,” he says, nodding.

“It's just that I'd like to be able to check the levels of medication in your system," the doctor explains, "and also hopefully rule out some of the organic causes of male orgasmic disorder before we commence any psychological therapy.”

Will frowns. “Male orgasmic disorder? Is that an actual condition then?” 

“Yes it is," Hannibal confirms, "and it's a lot more common than you'd think. It can be psychological, usually caused by a problematic relationship, stress or some kind of past abuse, but it also has organic causes. Conditions such as hypogonadism, thyroid disorders and various other diseases which affect the central nervous system can all prevent a man from reaching orgasm.”

Will shakes his head. “I had no idea,” he says.

“But there’s really no need to look so worried,” Hannibal reassures him. “It's highly unlikely that you're suffering from any of these things, and I'm already fairly sure your condition is stress related. It's just that I really want to rule out any of these physical causes before we begin any therapy. What about your general health, Will? Do you feel well on the whole?"

Will shrugs. "I guess," he says. "I get a lot of headaches, but that's pretty usual for me."

"What about your sexual health? Any history of urine infections or STDs?"

Will shakes his head. 

"When did you last have a full urogenital and rectal exam?"

"Not for a while," Will says. "Two or more years, maybe." He coughs, hiding his face behind his hand. "Never had a rectal exam," he says.

Hannibal smiles gently. "Well, you can book in at the urology clinic at Mercy for that, or you can go to your own doctor? The choice is yours, but I'd like you to do it soon - before our next appointment, if you can."

"Do you really think it's necessary?" Will says with a grimace, clearly not relishing the prospect. 

"It's standard procedure actually," Hannibal assures him. "I certainly make sure it's a part of my annual medical and it's absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise you. I'll leave you to organize that for yourself, shall I? But the blood samples I can take myself today. It'll certainly speed things up." He rises and crosses to a cabinet behind his desk, humming as he rummages about before shortly returning with a tourniquet and blood kit. “Can you roll up your sleeve for me? Not bothered by needles, I hope?”

“Uh, no," Will says, doing as he's asked, and then he watches dispassionately as several vials of his blood are taken and labelled. Next he's provided with a small plastic urine container. 

"An early morning sample is best," Hannibal tells him. "Would you be able to drop one off for me tomorrow morning?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Will confirms.

“I should have your results within two or three days,” Hannibal says. “We’ll keep to your next scheduled appointment, shall we? In the meantime, if anything in your condition changes, or you want to talk to me about this or anything else, just give me a call.”

“Okay,” Will says, as he rolls his sleeve down gently over the bandage Hannibal has carefully taped to his arm. He seems glad that the session is finally over. “Thanks, Dr. Lecter," he adds as he heads quickly for the patients' exit. "I’ll see you on Friday."

"Goodbye, Will," Hannibal says. "And please, call me Hannibal."

But Will has already gone, leaving Hannibal to sniff air that's wholly charged with the scent of nervous sweat and cheap aftershave lotion.

It's a scent he finds irresistable.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal coolly appraises the rather disheveled appearance of the man seated in the chair opposite him. Will's curls are damply wind-whipped, his cheeks are red from the cold and there are dark smudges under his eyes which only add to his air of vulnerability.

"How have you been, Will?" he asks. "You look tired, if you don't mind my saying so."

Will nods. "Yeah," he says with a sigh, which could be tiredness or could be nerves - Hannibal can't decide. "It's been a tough week, work-wise," he says, running a hand through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it.

"Do you want to talk about that?"

"Nothing to talk about," Will says with an offhanded shrug. "Just the usual."

"There's nothing usual about your line of work, Will," Hannibal replies. "In fact, we both know the kind of work you do takes a great toll upon your health and mental well-being. How long have you been working on this current case now?"

Will shifts a little in his seat. "Um," he says, thinking. "About a month, I guess."

"So about the same length of time you've been experiencing your current sexual problems."

Will frowns. "You're thinking there may be a link?" he asks.

"It's possible," Hannibal says. "What do you think?"

Will considers this idea for a while, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his brow furrowed in thought. "Um, I don't really think so," he says slowly. "This case is ... bloody, but there's nothing sexual in the killer's motives that I can detect so far. I don't think I've been overly preoccupied with the case either. I mean, I've had no nightmares about it, nothing like that. Isn't it - isn't it possible that my problems are just stress related, I mean like caused by general stress?"

"Again, it's possible," Hannibal confirms. "Stress, along with depression and anxiety, as well as feelings of guilt, anger, fear, low self-esteem – these are all potentially contributing factors. However, the anti-anxiety medication I prescribed for you would also help to alleviate such feelings, and although drugs of this nature can sometimes cause sexual dysfunction as a side effect, having studied the results of your blood and urine tests, I really don’t think this is to blame in your case."

This, of course, is a blatant lie but Hannibal moves swiftly on, turning to lift his notebook from the glass-topped table beside him and flipping it open at the marker. "All of your results have come back completely normal," he says, glancing down at the figures on the piece of paper he earlier pinned to the page, and he now runs his finger down it as he speaks. "No problems with your thyroid function or hormone levels," he says. "Your liver and kidneys are functioning normally. No sign of diabetes. No sign of infection, and as I indicated earlier, the levels of medication in your system are not considered high enough to be problematic. It’s highly unlikely, therefore, that there is anything physically wrong with you which could be causing your current symptoms."

Will, who has been sitting forward and listening intently, now slumps back in his seat.

"So you're saying my problem is almost definitely likely to be ... psychological then?" he asks. He’s frowning again, which gives Hannibal the impression that perhaps Will had been hoping that it was something physical, so that at least he might have something easy on which to pin the blame. 

"That does seem to be the case," Hannibal agrees, "assuming that your urogenital exam was normal too?" 

Will clicks his tongue in consternation and shakes his head. "I , uh, I didn't go for it yet," he confesses somewhat guiltily. "Like I said, it's been a difficult week." 

Hannibal frowns, his face etched with concern. "You do know how important it is for you to have this examination, Will?" he says, heavily emphasising each word. "Your test results are very encouraging, but we need to ensure there are definitely no other physical reasons for your condition before we begin a full course of psychiatric treatment, otherwise I might end up doing more harm than good."

Will sighs apologetically. "I know, I know," he says, spreading out his hands in a conciliatory gesture, palms up. "I'm sorry. I'll try and sort an appointment out tomorrow. It's just that I've been so busy and ... well, you know." 

"I know," Hannibal says, nodding with as much sympathy as he can muster. "But it has to be done. In fact, it's something I could do for you now, if you'd like? It wouldn't take long. Ten to fifteen minutes at the most."

Will coughs involuntarily and leans forward to cover his mouth. "Uh, I'm not sure," he croaks. "Wouldn't it be better to go to a clinic?"

"Okay," Hannibal says pleasantly. "As you wish. If you don't trust me to do it -"

"No, no, it's not that," Will interrupts quickly, clearly not wishing to offend his doctor. "It's just that I wasn't ... you know, I mean I'm not ... "

"Mentally prepared for such an examination?"

"Yeah," Will says weakly. "Uh, I mean no, I guess not."

Hannibal rises gracefully, crosses to his desk and flicks over a page in his desk diary. "Then how about you come down to my office tomorrow after work and we'll do it then?" he says. "That would give you time to prepare. Would 5.30 be okay for you? As I said, it'll only take ten to fifteen minutes of your time at the most."

Will rolls his eyes upwards, thinking, clearly visualizing his day, and although Hannibal can sense his reluctance, he can also sense a desire to just say yes and get it all over and done with. "Yes, okay then," he says, "but can we make it around seven instead? I have some other stuff I need to do straight after work."

"Seven is fine," Hannibal agrees, writing the appointment time carefully in his diary before returning to his seat and once more picking up his notebook. "In the meantime, there are plenty of other things we need to talk about which will enable me reach a firm diagnosis."

"Oh, right, okay. Like what?"

"Well, I’ll need to take some details about your sexual history."

"Um," Will says, his brow wrinkling. "I thought we talked about that last time?"

"We merely scratched the surface," Hannibal says. 

"Oh, I see." Will sits up a little straighter then, as if he's preparing to sit some kind of test, and then very tellingly he takes his glasses out of his shirt pocket and puts them on. 

"Okay, Will," Hannibal says, swiveling his pen between his fingers. "First, I am going to ask you a few questions about your sexual health and sexual practices, and whilst I understand that these questions are very personal, nevertheless they are important for your overall health. Just so you know, I'd ask these questions to any of my adult patients who are experiencing sexual dysfunction, regardless of their age, gender, or sexual orientation. These questions are as important as the questions about other areas of your physical and mental health and, just like with the rest of our sessions, this information will be kept in strict confidence. Now, do you have any questions about anything I just said before we get started?"

"Yeah," Will says, pushing his glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose. "How long did it take you to learn that little speech off by heart?"

Hannibal laughs and Will smiles nervously back. "Actually, it is a standard speech straight out of a text book," Hannibal confesses. "I did work in a sexual health clinic for a while and although it was a long time ago, some things never leave us. Now, the first thing I would usually ask is whether or not you are currently sexually active, but in our previous session you indicated that you weren’t. Is this still the case?"

Will nods. "Unless, of course, you want to count the relationship I have with my right hand," he then says with a nervous laugh and Hannibal smiles.

"That’s good, Will," he says. "Being able to make light of your situation shows you are beginning to relax. Now, thinking back over the past twelve months or so, roughly how many sex partners have you had, would you say?"

"In the past twelve months?" Will repeats. "Um, only one," he says. "Though I wouldn’t really call him a partner as such. More ... well." He coughs, clearly embarrassed once more. "It was - well, it was more of a chance encounter really." 

"But you had sex with this person?"

Will nods.

"Then he counts as a sex partner. How long ago was this?"

Will shrugs. "It was a while back," he says. "Probably about three or four months ago."

"And was this person known to you before this encounter?"

Again, Will shakes his head.

"So a one night stand. That’s the phrase, yes?"

"Yes."

"And thinking about this encounter, were you under the influence of any mind-altering substances when it took place?"

"I’d been drinking, yes," Will says.

"A lot?"

"Quite a lot."

"Enough to impair your judgement?"

Will thinks. "I knew what I was doing," he says, "if that's what you're asking."

"Okay." Hannibal writes this down. "And what about drugs? Were any drugs involved?"

Will shakes his head.

"And you were a willing partner during this time? You weren’t coerced or raped?"

"God, no. It was nothing like that. If anything, it was me who instigated the whole thing."

There’s a pause as Hannibal again writes in his notebook. "I notice you said _him_ ," he says looking up, "meaning your sex partner on this occasion was a man. The fantasy you shared with me during our last session also involved men. Just so that we're both firmly on the same page with regard to your sexuality, Will, do I take it that you self-identify as homosexual?"

Will quickly glances up from behind the safety barrier of his glasses and makes full eye contact with Hannibal for two or three seconds at least, which gives the doctor a sense that the younger man is searching for possible judgments against him, or indeed, any kind of opinion really. "I identify as a gay man, yes," he says, somewhat defiantly. 

Hannibal’s face is inscrutable, however, but he jots down a note before he moves swiftly on to the next question. "Okay," he says, "so thinking back then to this last sexual encounter, would you say it was an enjoyable and successful experience?"

Will nods. "Yeah, I guess," he says.

"And what kind of sexual contact did you have with this man during this chance encounter?"

Will squirms at this point and folds his arms tightly. "Why do you need to know all this in such detail?" he asks.

Hannibal frowns as if he doesn't quite understand what Will means. "I’m just trying to gain an overall picture of your sexual practices, Will," he replies very matter-of-factly. "It will help me with any diagnosis I make and also will enable me to tailor your therapy to your needs. You don’t actually need to answer any of these questions if you really don’t want to. However, I'm much more likely to be able to treat you successfully if you give me full and honest answers."

Another hesitation from Will. "Yes, yes, okay," he says at last. "What was the question again?" 

"I was asking about the type of sexual contact you had with this man. For example, was it anal or oral or - "

Will’s chin juts up. "It was anal," he says quickly.

"Okay, so did you use a condom?"

Will nods his head vigorously. "Uh, yep, yeah, we did," he says. "I mean, he did, the uh ... the other guy."

"And it was full, penetrative anal sex?"

Will nods again.

"How long did it last?"

Will squirms again. "Um, not that long," he says, looking down at the floor. "Only a few minutes, probably. It was ... it was a – a public place, kind of, so we were rushing it a bit."

"A public place?"

"It was in the restroom of a bar." Will then blushes suddenly and completely, his cheeks burning. Even his throat is a blotchy red. 

"Will," Hannibal says softly after a moment, taking pity. "I’m really not here to judge you. You do know that, don’t you?"

After another moment’s hesitation, Will nods. "It’s just that it feels a bit like I’m being interrogated at the moment," he says, his arms still tightly folded against his chest.

"I’m sorry, Will," Hannibal says. "That really isn’t my intention. We can stop now, if you’d rather?"

There’s a pause. 

"No, it’s okay," Will eventually says. "Let’s carry on." He nods, unfolding his arms, although Hannibal notices that he then grasps the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles whiten.

"All right then, Will, if you’re sure. So, thinking about this chance encounter, first of all, was there much foreplay?"

"Uh, no. Actually, you could say none."

"Did you achieve orgasm with ejaculation?"

Will swallows both loudly and visibly, and Hannibal narrows his eyes as he watches the movement of his throat.

"Yes."

"During penetrative sex or after?"

"Uh, during, I think. Yes, um, during."

"So did your partner manually aid your ejaculation or did you - "

"Uh, what?" Will jumps in his seat as if he’s been scalded, and his agitated fingers now flutter back and forth through his hair. "I mean, really?" he says, his mouth tight and his eyes skittering as he looks anywhere but at Hannibal. "I know you want all the juicy details but do you really expect me to tell you that as well?"

Hannibal, turns up mildly surprised eyes on his patient. "Why wouldn’t you?" he asks.

"Because it’s a bit too Goddamn personal, that’s why!" 

"I don’t see how it’s more personal than anything else you’ve already told me," Hannibal reasons, "and surely how you achieved your climax is an essential piece of information you need to share with me. I’m just trying to see the overall picture, Will." 

"All right, all right," Will spits out. "If you must know, he jerked me off while he was fucking me in the ass. Does that paint a clear enough picture for you?" He then sits there, his arms again gripped defensively against his chest, his head bowed and body trembling.

There’s a long silence during which Hannibal waits patiently for the trembling to abate. 

"I am wondering why you are upsetting yourself so much over this," he says eventually. "Is it that you just don’t like talking about sex or is it that you’re uncomfortable with your homosexuality, Will? You do know that therapy only works when we have a genuine desire to know ourselves as we are - not as we would like to be?"

At this, Will doesn’t move and neither does he answer.

"Will? Do you understand what I’m saying?"

Will clears his throat. "Of course I do," he snaps. He unfolds his arms just long enough to push his glasses further up before promptly folding them again. "Sorry," he says. "It’s just that ... well, I’m not used to talking about ... these things to anyone, and especially not in such detail. You have to understand, it’s not that easy for me."

Hannibal studies him carefully. "Are you not out to your family and friends?" he asks.

"Um, to some I am," Will says, nodding.

"Work colleagues?"

At this, Will shakes his head. "Only Alana," he says, "but that’s only because she once made ... shall we say _romantic overtures_ towards me, and ... well, you know." He shrugs. "Look, it’s really not that I’m ashamed of my sexuality, or ... what was it you said? _Uncomfortable_ or whatever. I do accept who I am. It’s just that ... it’s ... well, it’s a part of me that I like to keep private, that's all."

"I completely understand," Hannibal tells him. His voice is low, smooth and soothing. "You feel that your sexuality is your business and no one else's?"

"Exactly," Will says. 

"And yet you and I must be able talk about these things, Will, if you want me to help you."

With his head bowed, Will breathes in deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring and then he lets the air out slowly through his mouth. "I know," he says. "I’m sorry."

"There's absolutely no need to apologize," Hannibal assures him. He looks at Will, at his tight mouth, at the tension in his folded arms and then he looks at his wristwatch. "Look, I think we should call it a day for now," he says. "I don’t want to push you too hard too soon and I think we’ve covered enough ground for today." 

Will offers up a tight, grateful smile and nods his agreement. "I guess I’m not an easy patient," he says. 

"There’s no such thing," Hannibal says with a gentle smile. Pushing himself to his feet, he fastens his suit jacket, and Will, taking this as a signal that their session is genuinely over, gets to his feet too. 

"Thanks, Dr. Lecter," he says as Hannibal, polite as ever, escorts him to the door. He swings round at the last moment though, awkwardly holding out his hand, and somewhat amused, Hannibal takes it and shakes it firmly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Will," he says, rather reluctantly loosening his grip. "At seven, did we say?"

"Oh," Will says, suddenly flustered again. "Uh, yeah, for the, uh ... for the exam. Yeah, seven. Um, see you tomorrow." 

He hurries through the door then, and after closing it behind him, Hannibal leans back against it, raising his hand to his face in order to savor the sweet, lingering scent of Will Graham's skin on his fingers.

For him, tomorrow evening can't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

"How long did you say this will take?" Will stands in Hannibal Lecter's office beside the couch, nervously eyeing the tray on the table which contains, among other things, lubricant, tissues and a box of surgical gloves.

"Only ten to fifteen minutes," Hannibal says. "Could you remove your lower items of clothing for me now, please, Will?" 

"Oh, um, right," Will says. He slips off his shoes without untying the knotted laces and then he fumbles with his belt and zipper before dropping his pants to the floor and stepping out of them. 

"Here, allow me," Hannibal says as Will stoops to pick them up, and he promptly takes them and folds them neatly over his arm. Next, Will very self-consciously slides off his boxer shorts and steps out of them too before reluctantly laying them over Hannibal's outstretched palm. "Actually, could you slip off your shirt too?" Hannibal asks. "I'm thinking it might get in the way. I hope I've made the room warm enough for you." 

Will turns to look at the leaping flames in the fireplace as he unbuttons his shirt. "Yeah, it's, uh, it's real cozy," he says with a nervous laugh.

"You're apprehensive," Hannibal says unnecessarily. "It's understandable but there's really no need to worry." He takes Will's shirt from him, surprised at how soft the plaid material feels in his hands, and then he crosses to his desk and carefully lays everything down. Turning, he sees Will nervously waiting in just his undershirt and socks, the skin on his thighs glowing as they're licked by the firelight flickering behind him, and he closes his eyes briefly, savoring the sight while committing it to memory. "I'll need to switch on this lamp," he says as he crosses back to the couch. "Sorry, it'll be very bright."

Will blinks and frowns as the fluorescent light briefly floods into his face before Hannibal swivels the beam downwards. 

Will's genitals, he notices, are just as he'd imagined them to be, with smooth flushed skin nestling in a neat triangle of springy pubic hair, and for a moment he can't help but visualize the testicles lying side by side on a bed of saffron infused rice, with basil and tomatoes and all of it delicately drizzled with a creamy walnut romesco sauce, but he soon pushes these thoughts out of his mind, deciding instead that he'd prefer it if these particular treats remained firmly attached to Will's body.

"I'm just going to examine your pubic area and genitals first, okay?" he says, snapping on a fresh pair of surgical gloves. "First I'm going to look and feel for any lumps or bumps or anything out of the ordinary. There should be no pain associated with this exam but obviously I do want you to tell me if you experience any kind of discomfort. Also, feel free to ask any questions as we proceed." He then takes a seat on the couch before placing his hands on Will's hips and gently angling his body towards himself. "Just place your feet a little bit further apart," he instructs. "That's perfect. And Will, could you just lift your undershirt out of the way for me? Thank you." He then firmly begins to roll the pads of his fingers along the front of Will's hips, first one then the other. "I'm just checking your lymph nodes first," he explains, "and feeling for any masses which might be evidence of a hernia. Let me know if there's any tenderness at all." 

Briefly, he glances up at Will but Will's eyes are staring off over Hannibal's shoulder somewhere into the middle distance. 

"Does that feel okay?"

Will clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, yeah, it's fine."

Hannibal continues his examination, and as he does so, he leans forward on the pretext of observing his patient closely but he gladly takes the opportunity to inhale the male muskiness of Will's most intimate scent. He's somewhat disappointed, however, to find it's rather overpowered by the sharp odor of medical grade antibacterial cleanser.

"Did you shower just before you came here tonight?" he inquires.

"Uh, yes," Will says. 

"At work?"

"Actually, yes."

"So was that why you needed the extra time between finishing work and coming here?" 

"Um, well I figured that I'd floss my teeth before going to the dentist's office," Will says, his mouth twitching into an embarrassed smile, "so it's kinda the same thing, I guess." He laughs nervously, clearly trying to pretend that he isn't actually standing in the middle of his psychiatrist's office, naked below the waist except for his socks. 

"That was very courteous of you, Will," Hannibal says. "I appreciate the gesture although it really wasn't necessary." Just at that moment, he presses his fingertips deep into Will's groin, making him suck in a breath. "Did that hurt you?" he asks, looking up, his face etched with concern.

"No, no," Will says. "I just wasn't excepting you to press quite that hard." 

"Sorry," Hannibal says. "Okay, just turn your head away and cough for me, please, Will. That's right. Again. And once more, please. That's good." He leans back. "Well, everything seems fine so far," he says. "There's no evidence of any hernia or enlarged nodes. I'm just going to examine your scrotum and testicles now, if that's okay, just to ensure there's no swelling or the presence of hard or tender nodules. Just bear with me. I'll try to be as gentle as I can."

However, as he carefully performs this part of the examination, he realizes that Will's whole body is gradually tensing up.

"You okay, Will?" he asks, looking up. "You sure I'm not hurting you?"

"Uh, no, no," Will says. "Um, it just tickles a bit, that's all."

Hannibal smiles to himself. "Just try to relax then, okay? This won't take me long."

"Okay," Will says gruffly. He bites down on his lower lip as Hannibal's palms cup first one of his testicles then the other, rolling each one between his fingertips before eventually releasing them and leaning back. "Everything seems just fine," Hannibal says. "What about the penis itself? Have you noticed any abnormalities, such as any unusual discharge, or pain with urination or erection?"

Will clears his throat. "Um, no, no, nothing like that," he says. "Nothing at all."

"No? That's good then. Okay, Will, can you just retract your foreskin for me? A little bit more? That's perfect."

Suddenly, Will flinches as Hannibal takes hold of him and begins to gently squeeze and press up and down his length. "Sorry, Will," he says. "I didn't mean to make you jump. I'm just checking for any abnormalities. It'll only take a moment. The glans isn't sore at all, is it?"

"No," Will replies through gritted teeth. 

After a few more moments, Hannibal again sits back. "Okay, Will," he says. "You've done really well so far and the exam is nearly complete. I just need to examine your rectum and prostate and then we're done."

"Yippee," Will says tonelessly. "The part I've been looking forward to all day."

"How do you want to do this?" Hannibal asks him with a sympathetic smile. "You can go on your hands and knees on the couch, or on your side, whichever you feel most comfortable with."

"Um, if it's okay, I'll go on my side," Will says.

"Okay then, lie down on your left side so that you're facing away from me." He watches as Will carefully maneuvers himself onto the couch and lies down. "That's it," he says. "Now bring your knees up to your chest as far as you can. That's it, good. That's perfect." He turns and picks up the tube of lubricant. "Okay, Will," he says. "I'm just going to apply some lubricant to my gloved finger. It might feel a bit cold. You'll feel pressure when I insert my finger, but you shouldn't feel any pain. Oh, and don't worry if you feel the urge to urinate or have a bowel movement because you won't. That's a just a normal sensation at this stage of the examination. Now, are you ready?"

"I guess," Will says. Hannibal wants to smile at his patient's forced bravery, but he clenches his jaw and assumes an air of appropriate seriousness instead. Placing one hand on Will's right hip to hold him steady, he gently starts to push the middle finger of his other hand inside him. He stops though when he hears a gasp from Will. 

"You okay, Will?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah," Will replies. "Like you said, it's a ... it's cold."

"Sorry. Okay, just a bit further. A bit more. Still okay?"

Will utters a small and breathless, "Yes."

"Okay, I'm going to angle my finger to get a feel of your prostate now. Soon be over." He pushes deeper, swiveling his finger to probe the gland and on hearing Will grunt, he bends closer. "Does that feel painful?" he asks.

"Um, no," Will gasps. "Not – not painful. Uh, it's a ... it's a ... "

"Pleasurable?" Hannibal supplies. 

Will's reply is a low moan, which he does his best to suppress.

"It's okay Will," Hannibal says. "I'm sure you know that's quite a normal reaction. Please don't feel embarrassed." He presses harder and is rewarded when Will clenches tightly around his finger. "You have good muscle tone," he remarks, "and I'm pleased to say that everything else feels perfectly normal. Look, Will, before we finish, I'd just like to quickly try something if I may, just to test your ejaculatory reflexes. It's the equivalent of tickling your nose to make you sneeze. May I?"

"Go for it," Will says breathlessly, "but I think you should hurry up. Despite what you said before, I think I might be about to pee all over your couch any minute."

"Eloquently put," Hannibal says with a grin as he inserts a second finger and then he's pressing and stroking all in one slick movement, and to Will's shock and surprise, he's not peeing on Dr. Lecter's couch at all but leaking a steady stream of semen all over it in instead.

"Oh, God," he gasps, his hips jerking forward in an involuntary attempt to escape the firm push of Hannibal's fingers. "What – what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm simply applying the right kind of pressure in just the right place in order to milk your prostate gland," Hannibal replies. "Just try and keep still. That's it, just relax." As the flow eventually trickles to a stop, he withdraws his fingers slowly and carefully and then after peeling off his gloves, he passes Will a handful of tissues. "It's a standard medical procedure and as I said, it's a very similar process to tickling your nose to make you sneeze. Forgive me, Will, I should have given you more warning of what was likely to happen, but at least we now know your reproductive system is in good working order. It certainly confirms the idea that it's your mind and not your body which is causing your current difficulties. Please excuse me while I go and wash my hands. I'll also give you some privacy to clean yourself up and get dressed. Don't worry about the couch. I'll clean it later."

Will is still in the downstairs bathroom when Hannibal returns although he notices the clothes have gone from his desk. The scuffed brown shoes remain on the floor next to the couch, however, and as Hannibal crosses to retrieve them, he looks down at a wet patch on the dark leather. Will has clearly made an attempt at mopping up his spilt semen, despite the instruction to leave it, and Hannibal now stares down at the shining wet smear left behind. It has a potent bleach-like smell, which he attributes to the fact that Will hasn't been able to ejaculate in a while but he certainly doesn't find it unpleasant. Unable to resist, he slowly slides his finger through the wet stain, lifting it to his nostrils and inhaling deeply before pressing the tip of his finger to his tongue.

It's the closest he's ever been, he realizes, to eating any part of Will Graham.

By the time Will shuffles somewhat shyly into the room, Hannibal is seated in his chair, scribbling in his notebook, although he immediately puts it aside when he hears the door. 

"Come and sit down, Will," he says warmly. "Your shoes are by your chair. I thought you coped very well with the examination, by the way. I know that wasn't easy for you."

"Can't have been much fun for you either," Will says, taking his usual seat opposite the doctor. He pulls his shoes towards him and puts them on, although he seems quite surprised to see the complicated knots in his laces have all been completely untangled. It's clear that he's relieved now that the physical exam is out of the way, so much so that he seems almost cheerful. "So, would you say that everything's okay, then?" he asks, nodding at himself once his laces are tied and he sits back in his chair. "Down there?"

Hannibal nods. "Yes," he says. "As I said, everything is perfectly normal, and in that respect, you are a very healthy young man, Will. It's good, and now that we've established there's actually nothing physically wrong with you, it means I can begin to treat your mind without fear of an oversight. We can start to make a few adjustments to the way you're thinking about things."

Will considers this for a few moments. "And how do we do that?" he asks.

"By making some small changes. What I've shown you tonight is that whilst ejaculation is mainly a response to physical stimulation, the real pleasure comes from the orgasm itself, and that actually takes place in the brain. If you don't mind me saying, I don't think you particularly enjoyed the experience of ejaculating without orgasm very much, did you?"

"No, actually," Will says, reddening a little. "It was ... it was definitely a kind of a relief since I haven't, you know, been able to do it in a while, but uh ... it wasn't ... um ..."

"Satisfying?"

"No," Will says, agreeing. "Not at all."

"Hmm."

Hannibal then flicks back through several pages of his notebook as if he's looking for something. "You told me you usually like to masturbate two or three times a week," he says, tapping a page with his finger. "Has this still been the case during these last few weeks? I mean, you've still been trying even though you've been unable to reach a climax?"

Will blinks. "Uh, yeah," he says doubtfully, "though ... well, I guess I've been trying less and less, because, you know, it's starting to get more and more frustrating."

"That's completely understandable," Hannibal assures him. "Okay, Will, this is what I'd like you to do. I would like you to masturbate at least twice a day for the next three days, more often if you can, but rather than focusing on the end product, the orgasm itself, I would prefer you to take the time to just enjoy the sensations of arousal instead." 

"Okay," Will says slowly. "So, uh, basically, you want me to jerk myself off without the getting off bit, right? Well, to be honest, that sounds exactly like what I've been doing anyway."

"But it's likely that you've been entirely focused on the finish recently," Hannibal explains, "so that rather than enjoying the actual process and the pleasure of what you're doing, you're already thinking at the outset about how frustrating it will be if you're not able reach a climax and this puts pressure on you. I think you may need to take some of this pressure off. You've heard of sexual performance anxiety, I take it?"

Will nods. "Of course," he says, "but I thought that was about having sex with another person. I didn't think it would apply to being on your own."

"I think it's very possible that it could do," Hannibal says. "Look, I'm not saying it's the original cause of your problem, but it may be a part of what's compounding it now."

Will considers this, his head tilted to one side. "I guess that kind of makes sense," he says. "I mean, recently, I have been starting out worrying how it's going to end ... or rather not end, instead of just enjoying it for what it is. And you're right, it _has_ taken most of the pleasure out of it." 

"Exactly," Hannibal says, "and for that reason I suggest you also try to make a strong emotional connection to the physical sensations whenever you engage in masturbation. Use your rape fantasy, or any other fantasy for that matter, or replay past sexual encounters in your mind if you want to. However, if at any point you feel that you are getting close to a climax, you should discontinue stimulation and relax. Only when you are feeling less aroused should you resume stimulation again if you want to."

Will's forehead wrinkles slightly as he takes this all in. "Okay," he says slowly, "but you said to do this for three days. What happens when the three days are up?" 

"After three days, I'll call you to discuss the next step. You will be home after nine in the evening?"

Will thinks then nods his head. "I should be," he says, "but I'll let you know if there's any change in my plans."

After he leaves, Hannibal sets about carefully cleaning his couch with a soft Tampico brush soaked in foam before buffing the leather to a subtle shine with a soft cloth. However, he already knows that he'll be forever able to smell the spilled seed of Will Graham whenever he uses this couch, so deeply is it embedded within the fine grain of the soft Italian leather.

It's a thought which he finds infinitely pleasing.


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal smiles to himself when the phone at the other end is picked up after only two rings. 

"Hello?"

"Good evening, Will," he says. 

"Uh, hello, Dr. Lecter. I've been, uh, I've been waiting for your call. How are you?"

Hannibal can hear the obvious falter of nerves in Will's voice. He's watched him teach on a number of occasions before now, sneaking into the shadowy recesses of the lecture halls at Quantico during some particularly gruesome slide shows, and on those occasions Will has been confidently fluent, and yet in private conversation he always seems such a shy, nervous, reluctant participant, as if engaging in dialogue would somehow mean the loss of some prized possession he isn't quite prepared to give away.

It's for this reason that Hannibal decides to get straight to the point.

"I'm fine, Will, thank you," he says. "Look, I'm phoning as promised to see how you've been getting on with the little homework project I set you. Have you been masturbating as regularly as I suggested?"

There’s a brief silence – shock from Will maybe, Hannibal thinks, at the directness of the question.

"Um, yeah, it’s, uh, it's been going okay," Will says. Always that little stutter in his voice, his emotions betraying his words. "I’ve been doing exactly as you said and, you know, just trying to enjoy the sensations with no pressure to, uh, to – to come or anything."

"And how have you found it?"

"Um, well ... if I'm honest, it's been just as frustrating. I mean, I know you told me to stop when - you know, like, when I thought I might be getting close, but, um, well on a couple of occasions I just carried on because I thought I might - you know ... but, well, it just wasn't happening, so ... well, yeah, the last couple of days I’ve been doing it just like you said."

"How many times today?" Hannibal asks.

"Um, three." Will laughs then, clearly embarrassed. Hannibal wonders if he's blushing.

"That's good, Will," Hannibal says. He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, arranging one loosely over the other. "Have you been putting your imagination to good use?" he asks. "Using your fantasies?" 

Another brief silence. 

"Uh, yeah, yeah I have."

"Including the one you told me about, where you imagine yourself to be overpowered and raped?"

Will coughs. "Uh, yeah," he says. "So, uh, anyway, you – you said something the other day, about moving things on to the next stage?"

"Yes," Hannibal says. He feels somewhat disappointed by Will's attempt to change the subject as he would have preferred to explore the man's fantasies in a little more detail for a while first, but it's apparent that Will doesn't really want to talk about them and Hannibal doesn't want to frighten him off. "It's something we could probably try now, if you want to?" he offers, keen now to cut his losses. "I have to warn you though, it does involve rather an unorthodox approach."

"I think I've got to the stage where I'd be willing to try anything," Will says with another nervous laugh. "What do I have to do?"

Hannibal settles himself more comfortably. "First, I have to ask if you are alone," he says.

"Yeah. Um, that is except for my dogs."

"And you're not expecting anyone to call on you this evening?"

"Uh, no, no, I wouldn't have thought so." 

"Are the dogs in the room with you?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. I think if we are going to do this, you might want to consider putting them in another room for the time being."

"Oh," Will says. "Do you mind me asking why?"

"Not at all, Will. It's just that I believe you need to avoid all distractions during this next stage, and I want you to be listening only to my voice and giving your full concentration to me and the things I am saying to you."

"Ah, ok," Will says. "Um, well look, shall I call you back in a few minutes? Sorting these guys out and getting them all out of the way might take me some time."

From the sounds coming down the line, however, Hannibal can already tell that Will is on the move. He can hear sniffing and whining and the clatter of claws on linoleum. 

"No, I’ll call you back," he says firmly. "Will ten minutes give you enough time?"

"Yeah, it should do." 

"Good. Oh, and Will?"

"Yes?"

"You might want to consider stripping yourself down to your underwear once you've secured your dogs."

There's yet another brief silence. Hannibal wishes he could see Will's face.

"Um, okay," Will says slowly, although he sounds somewhat doubtful now. "Is there anything else I need to do?"

"Actually, yes," Hannibal says. "You could do with having some lubricant to hand. Quite literally. Oh, and make sure the room's warm enough and you're resting comfortably when I call."

Another silence followed by a gulp from Will. "Um, right then, okay," he says. "Talk to you soon."

After hanging up, Hannibal places his phone on the table then pours himself a rather large glass of Clos des Lambrays before settling back down in his chair to wait. From his seat, he can see the clock on the wall, and he watches it patiently through hooded eyes as the minutes slowly tick by.

The call is picked up at the other end after exactly one and a half rings this time.

"Will?"

"Yes?"

"You sound breathless. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. It was a bit of a rush with the dogs but it’s all good now."

"Good," Hannibal replies. "Are you on your couch?"

"Uh, no," Will says. "Actually, I'm, uh, I'm lying on my bed. Is that okay?"

Hannibal almost purrs at the thought. "That's perfect, Will," he says. "And you are feeling warm and comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Good, and what are you currently wearing?"

"What?" Suddenly Will is laughing, his nerves spilling words out of his mouth in a choked splutter. "Is this a joke?"

"No," Hannibal replies steadily. "Why would it be a joke?"

"Um, because that’s the kind of thing you'd say when you’re about to have phone sex with someone," Will explains. He pauses. "Oh, oh, uh, but wait a minute. I didn't mean ... What I mean is ... um ... "

"Well, I did say it was rather an unorthodox approach," Hannibal cuts in, smiling. "No, seriously, Will, I just want to check that what you’re wearing is appropriate for what I have in mind." He hears Will's self-conscious laugh again and isn't quite sure if he sounds disappointed or relieved. 

"Well, um, okay then," Will says. "You said to ... uh, to strip down to my underwear so I'm wearing, um, well, it's a white undershirt, like the one I was wearing in your office the other day, and, uh, a pair of jersey cotton shorts. Um, they’re kind of a faded light blue." There's a hint of mischief in his voice when he says this last part, which Hannibal thoroughly enjoys. 

"Thank you, Will, that's fine," Hannibal murmurs. "Now, before we begin, I just want to say that if at any point during this session you feel you want to stop what we're doing, you must say so, okay?"

"Um, yes, yes, okay."

"It's important, Will. You must let me know."

"Yes, I understand." 

"All right then. I want you to close your eyes now and take several deep breaths, and then I want you think back to the night you met the man in the bar, the one you went into the restroom with for sex. Are you with me so far, Will?"

Will swallows hard, making the line crackle. "Uh, yes," he whispers.

"Deep breaths, Will," Hannibal instructs. He waits, listening closely. "Now imagine that you are there right now, on that night. You're in the bar. Describe for me what you can see."

Hannibal pauses a second time, listening to Will's slow, deep breathing on the other end of the line.

"Where are you, Will?" he asks softly. 

"Um, okay," Will says. "So ... I'm in this quiet little bar I know in Bethesda. I like it here. I mean, it's just one of those typical sorts of bars, like, you know, with dark wood floors and high-backed wooden benches in rows and lots of flat screen TVs showing sports, but ... later, at night, they turn all the TVs off and the lighting is ... well, it's kind of subdued, like they turn all the lights down low when the kitchen closes and they've finished serving up food. I like that I can sit here and I can just ... chill." 

Hannibal deliberately keeps his voice low, speaking slowly in a deep hypnotic rumble. "I see," he says. "And is that what you're doing now? Just sitting?"

"No, actually, I’m, uh ... I’m standing at the bar," Will says. "And, uh ... um, I’ve just asked the barman to pour me another whiskey."

"Another whiskey?" Hannibal repeats, still in that same low rumble. "How many drinks have you had so far tonight?"

Will ponders. "Three or four maybe," he says. "Doubles. Oh, and uh, I had a couple of beers, you know, earlier on ... with Jack and Beverley. So ... I don’t know, I guess I’ve had quite a lot. For me, anyway."

"And how do you feel?"

There’s another silence as Will considers. "Kinda warm and fuzzy," he says, "you know, from the alcohol, but also kinda ... I don’t know, I’m just feeling lonely, I guess. Lonely and a bit down. It's been a hard day."

"It has?"

"Yeah."

"Why's that?"

There's a silence. "Uh, there was a ... an ugly crime scene today," Will says. "And seeing what he did to this woman, the killer, and then getting inside his head – I guess it shook me up more than I let anyone know. I was on my way home but I decided to ditch my car and go for another drink instead. I was only going to have one at first but ... well, I don't know. Once I'd started, I just felt like I wanted to carry on and block everything out. I was planning to sleep it off in my car. In fact, that's what I did, you know? I mean, like after."

"I see," Hannibal says sympathetically. "So what about the man? Is he already here, in this bar?"

"Uh, yeah," Will says quietly. "I think he was already here when I came in. He's sitting at the bar but he’s looking over at me, kinda like looking me up and down, you know?"

"Like he’s attracted to you?"

"Yeah."

"And are you attracted to him?"

Again, there’s a brief silence as Will considers his answer. "Um, not really, no," he says. "I don’t know, maybe a little. I guess it's just that he looks kinda lonely too, like maybe he could do with some company."

"Does he come over to you?"

"Um, no. No, I go over to him."

"And what do you say to him?"

"I tell him my name and I ask if I can buy him a drink."

"Does he accept your offer?"

The line crackles with tension.

"Will?"

"Uh, no," Will says eventually. "No, he just smiles at me and says he needs to go to the restroom, and then he asks if I need to go there too, and so I say yes, and then he – and then he gets up and he leaves."

"Do you follow him?"

"Um, after a short while I do, yeah. Like, I wait a bit because ... well, because I don’t really want anyone to think about why we’re going in there together."

"I see. So do you think you've already decided that you're following him in there in order to have some kind of sexual contact with him?"

A silence from Will.

"Will?"

"Um, uh, yeah ... yeah, I – I guess so," he eventually admits, stumbling over his words. "I – well, I think that’s what I'm hoping for. I just ... I just want to forget things ... and – and be touched."

There’s a brief pause from Hannibal before he speaks again. "Will," he says, sounding concerned. "You are starting to sound a little breathless again. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Will says after another pause. "I am. It’s just that ... well, talking about all this. It's, uh, it's making me, well – you know."

"You're feeling aroused?"

"Yeah."

"Is it making you hard, Will?"

"Um, yeah."

"Are you touching yourself?"

Another silence.

"Will?"

"Um, yeah, actually, I am," Will admits in an embarrassed whisper. "I – I'm sorry, I – well, I – I hope it’s okay."

Hannibal is quick to reassure him. "Of course it’s okay," he says warmly. "Will, I want you to touch yourself. Did you find any lubricant, by the way?"

"Yes."

"Use it, Will." Hannibal waits, listening to the rustle as the phone is dropped onto the bed sheets and to the light pop as a cap is opened. "I'm sure that will feel better," he says, when after a minute or so he hears Will's breath back on the line once more. "But you've got me intrigued now, Will – so you follow the man into the restroom, thoughts of sex on your mind. What happens next?"

"Uh, well, it's all very fast," Will says. "He grabs me as soon as I go through the door and he pulls me straight into the first stall and starts biting my neck – I have to cover the bruises there for days – and then he kisses me hard on the mouth, and it's all spit and tongues and the taste of smoke and whiskey. And then his hands are suddenly all over me, in my hair and inside my clothes and he ... well, he doesn’t seem to want to waste any time."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Well," Will continues, "like it only seems like a few seconds later before he’s got my pants open and then he's pulling them down and spitting on his fingers and then he’s ... he’s already working his fingers right up inside me."

Will’s ragged breathing is harsh now in Hannibal’s ear.

"Are you getting very hard now, Will?" he says softly. 

"Yeah," comes Will’s panting voice. "Very much so."

"Good. Keep stroking yourself," Hannibal encourages. "It feels good to do it, yes?"

"Oh, yes," groans Will.

Hannibal listens intently, the phone clamped to his ear, and for a moment he's sure he can hear the slick slap of Will's fist slipping over his swollen flesh.

"What happens next?" he asks softly. "You said he doesn’t waste time. Does he fuck you, Will?"

"Yes. Yes, he does."

"How does he enter you? Is he slow, quick, rough, gentle? How does he do it, Will? Tell me."

"He, um, he grabs my shoulder and sort of pushes me over," Will says, panting hard now. "I grab hold of the toilet and I start trying to kick off my pants so I can spread my legs for him, and then I hear him tearing open a condom, and I get ready but then he's suddenly pushing up inside me, like just forcing his way in, and then ... and then somehow he's already buried deep inside me before I can even move or breathe."

"He must be hurting you."

"Oh, God, yes," Will gasps. "He is. It really hurts – at first anyway, but ... it’s a – it’s a good hurt. I can feel him bruising my skin but I just don't care. I love the way his fingers are digging into my shoulders, the way he’s scratching me and biting me and pulling at my hair."

"Does the pain make you feel glad to be alive?" Hannibal questions.

"Yes," Will cries out. "I need this. I don't care if it hurts. Hurting is better than nothing. Hurting means there's someone there."

"Is he fucking you now, Will?" Hannibal whispers. "Is he pounding into you hard? Is he making you all slick with your own sweat? Is your cock weeping?"

"Yes," Will groans. "Oh, God, yes. He's fucking me hard, so hard and he’s ... he’s holding onto me and he's gripping my chest and I can't breathe, and he’s – fuck, his hand's on my cock and he’s jerking me off ... and ... oh, God, oh God, it’s so good, it’s so good, and it’s ... fuck, it's oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck ..."

"You're going to come, aren't you, Will?" Hannibal urges. "You're going to come with his cock inside you, fucking hard into you, filling you up and tearing you apart."

"Yes," Will cries out. "I, uhh – oh God, oh fuck, I’m uhh ... I think I'm gonna come ... I’m gonna come .... I ... Oh, God, oh Hannibal, oh, Jesus, oh fuck ..."

Hannibal listens intently, his own dick rock hard beneath the heel of his hand and it strains in his pants at the mention of his name, but then suddenly – so suddenly, Will’s ecstatic cries begin to turn into howls of bitter frustration, and Hannibal sits up abruptly, the phone pressed hard to his ear.

"Will," he says urgently. "Listen to me. Just let go, okay? You can do this. Come on, Will. Come for me. Come on now."

"But I can't," Will sobs in Hannibal's ear. "I just can't. It won't come. It won't come ... I just can't ..."

Hannibal suddenly hears a loud bang followed by a clatter, and he jerks the phone away from his ear at the unexpected noise. He quickly realizes that Will has dropped – or possibly even thrown – his phone to the floor. Somewhere in the distant background, he can hear the barking of dogs and beyond that, the bitter, sad sound of helpless angry sobbing.

"Pick up the phone, Will," he says loudly after a while. "Will, please pick up the phone. Will?"

Shortly, he hears a rustle, another clatter, and then Will's breathless sobs are louder in his ear.

"It's okay, Will," he soothes. "Please, I don't want you to cry. It's okay."

"I'm not crying," Will says defiantly, although the soft hitching deep in his chest tells Hannibal otherwise. "I'm just ... it's just ... it's so damn frustrating and I don't think I can take it anymore."

"I know," Hannibal soothes sympathetically. "But everything will be okay in the end, Will, I promise. I promise you."

Will sniffs loudly. "But how can you promise me that though?" he asks. He sounds utterly wretched, so much so that Hannibal actually feels a stab of guilt. 

"You just need to have faith," he says softly. "We'll get you there in the end." 

"Maybe," Will replies. "Or maybe I should just go out and get drunk one night and find somebody to fuck me. Maybe that's all I need to do."

"Maybe it is," Hannibal concedes. "But I have to wonder, if that's genuinely the case, why haven't you just gone out and done it before now?"

A familiar silence from Will. 

"I don't know," he says at last. His voice sounds small and soft, and Hannibal pictures him, lying on his side all defeated, his dark curls damp and a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. "Well, maybe I do," he then continues, his voice a low mumble. "Maybe I've just been holding out for something better than a one night stand. You know, like something other people have, that they take for granted. People like Jack."

"Ah, you are talking about a relationship?" 

"Yeah," Will sighs. "Not that it's ever going to happen."

"You never know, Will," Hannibal replies softly, "and if I were you, I wouldn't give up hope. It might be that you just haven't found the right person yet."

"I guess," Will concedes miserably after a pause, "although I'm not so sure that the right person even exists. Not for someone like me, anyway."

Long after the phone call has ended, Hannibal sits at his desk with his notebook open, reading and adding to his notes on Will. After a while, he decides it's probably time to change his patient's medication, and so he opens up a drawer and pulls out his prescription pad. After writing out the new script bearing Will's name and tearing it off, he signs his own name in ink at the bottom with a flourish, an expectant smile playing wickedly upon his lips.


	5. Chapter 5

Will sits in a brooding silence, his eyes averted. He's hiding behind his glasses again, Hannibal notices. He hasn't worn them at all during their last few sessions, so clearly his guard is back up. 

"Tell me what you're feeling, Will," Hannibal says, breaking the heavy silence in the room.

Will's eyes flick up briefly then drop back down and he shifts his position slightly. "I'm not particularly feeling anything," he says. He sounds stubborn and angry although Hannibal doesn't yet know why.

"You must be feeling something," he insists. 

"Well, you're the psychiatrist," Will snaps back. "You tell me."

Hannibal, never one to turn down a challenge, carefully appraises his patient for a few moments. "Okay, then," he says. "Firstly, I should think that you are feeling very frustrated that therapy hasn't worked for you so far. I also think you're still embarrassed about what happened on the telephone the other night, even though I've already told you there's no need to be. And finally, and this is a personal recommendation based purely on my current observations, I think you'd like me to help you learn some effective relaxation techniques, because your whole body is totally rigid with tension right now."

After a few moments, Will sighs heavily, rewarding his doctor with brief eye contact as if to acknowledge the accuracy of these statements. Hannibal watches as he anxiously twists his hands in his lap.

"Have you been taking your new medication regularly?" he asks.

"Every day," Will says, "like a good boy."

"And are you still masturbating every day?"

Will looks up sharply. "What? No," he says. "I gave up because what's the point?"

"I told you what the point was. It was to enjoy the sensations of arousal –"

"Without putting pressure on myself to come. Yeah, I know, but I really don't see the point now."

"Because?"

"Because it's really not getting me anywhere."

Hannibal watches Will closely. There's something about his patient's demeanor that he can't quite put his finger on, but he suspects it involves some kind of shame and disappointment, and also possibly sweat. "Has something happened, Will?" he asks.

Again Will shifts in his seat, and that telltale bloom swiftly colors his cheeks. He breathes out another heavy sigh. "You could say that," he says, his shoulders dropping in defeat as he removes his glasses and slots them into his shirt pocket.

Hannibal waits, his eyes slightly narrowed. 

"What we talked about on the phone," Will suddenly blurts out. "About me going out and finding someone to have sex with. I did it. I did it and it still didn't work!"

Hannibal isn't really prepared for the jealousy which pierces him at this moment and he momentarily presses his fingers to his chest. "When was this?" he asks stiffly.

"Last night."

"I see." Hannibal sits up, pulling his notebook and pen towards him. "Where? Your usual bar?" 

Will shakes his head, his face again stubbornly averted. "It doesn't matter where," he says. "It didn't work out."

Hannibal suddenly pictures a scene in his mind's eye. Will and a stranger, embroiled in a sweat-soaked tangle of limbs, thrashing together within damp, rumpled sheets. It's not a picture he particularly cares for.

"You went to a motel with him, didn't you?" he says.

Will glances up sharply. "How do you know that?"

Hannibal ignores the question. "Tell me what happened, Will," he says, but again Will shakes his head.

"Nothing happened," he says bitterly. "I mean literally. I thought it was going to be okay, but ... well, if you must know, I – I kind of lost it when he tried to ... you know, like get inside me, and I started kicking at him and shouting at him to get off me and I don't even know why. He slapped me and called me a fucking little prick-tease and a ... and a freak. And then he left. And he was right, you know. I am. I am a fucking freak."

"Will," Hannibal says firmly, "you are not a freak."

"Aren't I?"

"No, absolutely not."

"I don't even know why I did it though," Will suddenly wails, and Hannibal isn't sure which _it_ he's referring to - going to the motel for sex, or the fact that no sexual intercourse actually took place. 

"Perhaps he just wasn't the right partner for you," he suggests.

"Well, he had a dick, didn't he?" Will snaps back. "And I wanted it, I really did. The sex, I mean. I wanted him to fuck me, couldn't wait for him to fuck me. In fact, it was all me. I was the one who came on to him, it was me who suggested going to a motel. Hell, it was even me who stripped him off and sucked his Goddamn cock so he'd be hard enough to fuck me straight away, but when it came to it, when he was over me and kissing me and starting to push inside me I ... I don't know, I just – I just panicked. I freaked out."

He's breathing hard now, his nostrils flaring, his chest heaving and Hannibal, after placing his notebook and pen back down on the table beside him, sits quietly watching him, waiting patiently for him to calm down.

"You're really hurting tonight, aren't you?" he says, when Will's breathing has eventually slowed to a more reasonable pace. 

Will hesitates at first but then he looks up and nods miserably. "I hate being like this," he admits. "I hate it. I just want everything to be okay again."

Hannibal watches him for another thirty seconds or so and then he stands up. "Look, come over to the couch and lie down," he says. "Come on, Will, come and lie down and let me try to use a little hypnotherapy to make you feel better. Please?"

For a moment, Will just remains in his chair, glowering up at him suspiciously but then he stands up. "What exactly are you going to do to me?" he asks as he walks awkwardly towards the couch. "How do I know you aren't just going to milk me again?"

There's an awkward silence for a moment but then Will suddenly laughs at his own ridiculousness and Hannibal smiles back.

"I'm sorry," Will says. "Just ignore me. I ... well, you're right, you know. I do need to get rid of some of this tension." He stands next to the couch. "Okay then, so how do you want me?"

"Just lying on your back will be fine."

Will starts to kick off his shoes, but then he sees Hannibal glancing down at them and he bends down to untie the laces instead. Hannibal watches approvingly as he tucks them neatly side by side before lowering himself onto the couch. By the time Hannibal returns with a chair for himself, Will is already lying down, his head slightly elevated by a cushion and his hands tightly clasped across his abdomen. 

"You know this is such a cliché, right?" he mutters, shaking his head.

"Isn't it?" Hannibal says, smiling down at him. "But it's going to help you relax. In fact, you might want to loosen your clothing before we begin."

Will duly unfastens the top two buttons of his shirt, hesitates, and then proceeds to undo the buckle on his belt and release the clasp on his pants too.

"Okay, Will," Hannibal says. "We'll start with some deep breathing exercises first, and then we'll move on to some muscle relaxation and then finally I'm going to use a very mild form of hypnotherapy to hopefully reduce your levels of stress and improve your mood. Are you ready to begin?"

Will's expression looks doubtful for a moment but then he nods his confirmation.

"Okay then," Hannibal says, deliberately keeping his voice low and soft, "close your eyes then open your mouth and just gently let out some sighs, as if somebody has just told you something really annoying, and as you breathe out let your shoulders and the muscles of your neck and jaw and upper body relax. The point of these sighs is not to completely empty your lungs. It's just to relax the muscles of your upper body." 

As Will begins to comply with these instructions, his sighs remind Hannibal of the sound a small animal might make as it takes its final breaths.

"Okay," he says. "Close your mouth now and pause for a few seconds. Now, keeping your mouth closed, inhale slowly through your nose and hold it for a count of five ... four ... three ... two ... one, and slowly release your breath through your mouth. Let's try that again. Imagine this time that when you exhale, you are blowing on a candle, except rather than trying to blow it out, you're trying to blow it just softly enough to make that tiny flame gently dance before your eyes."

As he continues with the exercises, making sure to keep his voice low, calm and soothing, Hannibal watches as Will's body slowly begins to relax. His limbs seem to grow heavier as they gradually sink down against the couch, and the small frown lines in his forehead and between his eyebrows flatten out, leaving his brow smooth and clear. Eventually, the only movement Hannibal can detect in his patient is the slow rise and fall of his even breathing and the continuous flicker of his eyes behind their closed lids. 

"I'm just going to very gently touch your face now, Will," he says after a while.

He then places his right thumb on the bridge of Will's nose and applies a slight pressure. "I'm going to count from five down to one again," he says, "and as I do, your eyelids will lock themselves so tightly closed that the more you try to open them, the more tightly they'll be locked. Are you ready?"

Under Hannibal's touch, Will nods slightly although he doesn't speak.

"Okay, then. Five, your eyes are pressing down tightly. Four, pressing down and sealing shut. Three, sealing as if they're glued. Two, they're locked shut. The more you try to open them, the tighter they're locking closed. One. Okay, try to open your eyelids now and you should find them locking tighter and tighter." 

He watches as the delicate skin around Will's eyes creases slightly as he attempts to open them but they remain firmly closed. 

"That's fine, Will," Hannibal says, removing his thumb and taking his seat. "You can stop trying now. Just relax and imagine that a light, gentle mist is descending upon you, enveloping your whole being, saturating you with a pleasant, calm feeling. It's so relaxing, so soothing. It allows and causes an amazing level of calmness and serenity to penetrate and soothe every muscle and fiber of your body. Just lie still and feel the soothing mist penetrate and saturate and massage every muscle in your neck and shoulders, and notice how the calming mist now penetrates the muscles of your arms, and hands, and fingers, perfectly relaxing every muscle and fiber, travelling further down to your thighs, and to your knees, down to your calves, and all the way down, into your feet, into your toes. All of your muscles are becoming loose and limp. Notice how calm and relaxed you feel as you float peacefully, surrendering everything to your very own perfect calmness and serenity." 

Will's hands, which had been tightly clasped across his middle, suddenly loosen as his elbows slip down sideways. 

"Put your arms by your sides," Hannibal instructs, "and as you do so you'll find they're gradually starting to feel very heavy, so very heavy in fact that if you tried to lift them, you wouldn't be able to. Try Will, but you won't be able to lift them. They feel heavy, Will, so very, very heavy."

He watches closely as Will's fingers tremble ever so slightly, but his arms remain at his sides.

"That's good, Will," he says. "Your subconscious mind is so ready now, so sensitive, so impressionable, and because your subconscious mind is so ready, and because the instructions you are about to receive are so beneficial for you, the instructions you are about to receive will sink so deeply into your subconscious mind, that nothing will ever be able to change them."

Hannibal waits, listening to Will's quiet, even breathing and watching his eyes, which now only ever give the occasional light flicker. He leans forward, his mouth close to Will's right ear and then, enveloped within the smell of warm leather and the faint scent of Will's spilled semen, he begins to speak in a low, crooning voice as if singing a lullaby to a baby while Will, for his part, continues to lie completely still as Hannibal's voice drones softly into his ear.

Eventually, and many minutes later, Hannibal sits back. "It's almost time to come back to the room and be fully awake again, Will," he says. "I'm going to count to ten, and by the time I get to ten, you'll be ready to open your eyes, and you'll be feeling refreshed and wide awake. Okay, Will, one, you're gradually becoming aware of the couch beneath you. Two, you begin to feel energy returning to your body, improving your mood and making you feel better. Three, you almost feel as though you can open your eyes." 

He keeps slowly counting and making suggestions, and by the time he reaches ten, Will's eyes are open, although he's still looking rather dazed.

"Don't get up too quickly," Hannibal warns. "You've been lying down for over an hour. Take your time."

"An hour!" Will exclaims as he carefully pushes himself up onto his elbows before progressing up into a sitting position with his arms resting on his knees. "It only feels like it's been a few minutes."

"How are you feeling?" Hannibal asks.

Will blinks at him. "Um, I feel ... good," he says, obviously surprised. "Kind of calm and well, refreshed, I guess." He tips his head on one side. "Um, what did you just do to me?"

Hannibal's amused eyes are as mild as his smile. "You don't remember?" 

"I remember some of it," Will says slowly, frowning. "Uhh, like when you said my eyes were glued shut and that there was a mist coming down and making me relax, but ... um, not much else."

"But nevertheless, you feel better than you did before?"

"Uh, yes," Will says. "I – I do." He smiles and it's a wide smile for once, genuine and joyful. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter."

"It's my absolute pleasure, Will."

As Will pulls on his coat, he looks at Hannibal. "You know, I think maybe I'll go out tonight," he says. "I don't know why but I'm feeling lucky all of a sudden. Maybe I'll meet someone."

Hannibal smiles back at him, amused by his sudden enthusiasm.

"Take care, Will," he says. 

After Will leaves, Hannibal sits at his desk and uses his fountain pen to hand-write a letter on his thick, creamy stationery, and he reads it through carefully and then signs it before folding the paper neatly and slipping it into an envelope. After sealing it and addressing the front in his neat, stylish cursive, he props it up on his desk against the lamp.

Later, having showered, and dressed casually in a burgundy cashmere sweater and charcoal dress pants, he sets off in his car, arriving at his destination forty three minutes later, where he orders a small glass of Ruffino Pino Grigio and then sits down in a corner seat to wait. The bar, he notices, is exactly as Will had described, with its dark wood floors and rows of high-backed benches, and although he accepts the possibility that Will might not show up, he's quietly confident that he will, especially as the name of the bar is amusingly appropriate. The Barking Dog. 

Where else would a man like Will Graham go, if not here?

Just after ten, the lights suddenly dim, which according to one of his previous conversations with Will means that the kitchen has just closed. The smells wafting from there haven't exactly been offensive to Hannibal but each of the heavy trays which have emerged, loaded with burgers and fries and carried out by the apple-cheeked waitresses, have been viewed by him with disdain. Will’s scent, however, is in his nostrils long before he even sees him, his gaze drawn by a sudden and enticing outdoor aroma of fast-flowing stream water and fresh pine, not to mention the cheap but reasonably pleasant aftershave lotion he wears. It's unmistakable, and quite at odds with the smells of cooking oil and pickled gherkins which have previously been invading his nostrils. He watches as Will, his hair wind-tousled and cheeks ruddy at the sudden warmth, descends the last few steps and then crosses to the bar before slipping off his jacket and ordering a drink. Taking a large gulp of what appears to be a double whiskey, he coughs as it burns his throat, and then he leans on the bar, his elbows resting on the dark wood. Hannibal's gaze lingers slowly down over his slender body, taking in his slim waist and shapely thighs before sliding all the way back up to his neat profile with its distinctively flared nostrils and sparsely stubbled chin. 

Waiting patiently, he's eventually rewarded when Will turns his head and suddenly sees him sitting there. Will laughs and lifts his eyebrows, and as he raises his hand in surprised greeting, Hannibal returns the wave, his eyes still raking up and down Will's body as the younger man approaches, bringing with him the sharp stink of the cheap whiskey in his hand. Although Will's eyes are initially cast down to the floor, when he looks up his gaze into Hannibal's eyes is so direct and so intense that it almost takes Hannibal's breath away, and he suddenly realizes that he hasn't ever seen anyone look as beautiful as this man does tonight.

"Hi," Will says, his smile tentative and shy as he slides onto the seat next to Hannibal. "What are you doing here? Checking up on me?"

"It looks that way, doesn't it?" Hannibal agrees, returning the smile before reaching for his wine, and Will, noticing that the glass is almost empty, gestures towards it with his hand.

"Hey, um, let me buy you another drink," he offers. 

Hannibal's smile suddenly widens. "You make it sound like we might soon be going to the restroom together," he jokes, but Will's face immediately falls as he blushes. 

"Please don't make fun of me," he says, turning away slightly and hiding behind his own glass as he takes a sip of his drink, and he's suddenly looking so hurt and so self-conscious that Hannibal is instantly pierced by regret. His eyes flick down over the younger man once more, examining his body openly before slowly dragging them back up to look at Will’s averted face. 

"Actually," he says, in a confidential whisper as he leans forward, "I’m thinking of leaving soon to take a motel room for the night. Would you care to join me?"

At that, Will's head jerks round, and his eyes are suddenly wide and questioning. "W – what?" he stutters. "Would I ... would I _what_?"

But Hannibal is already sliding out of his seat, and then he's pulling on his overcoat as he heads towards the red-carpeted stairs. Quickly, he climbs them, taking two at a time with long-legged strides, pausing only to throw a quick glance over his shoulder at Will before hurrying up towards the sidewalk and out of sight. 

A few moments later and stumbling over his feet in his wide-eyed confusion, Will follows quickly up the steps behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

It's cold out on the sidewalk.

Will tucks his jacket more tightly around himself against the wind as his hurried steps crunch over the frozen snow. He finally catches up to Hannibal in the parking lot as the doctor pulls open the door of his car.

"So you've decided to come after all?" Hannibal says, smirking at Will over his shoulder.

Despite his confusion, the double entendre isn't lost on Will. Hannibal can almost see the wild thoughts tumbling in the younger man's head – _Did my psychiatrist really just say that? What the fuck is going on here?_ He looks doubtful and unsure as he glances over at his own car, and yet suddenly here he is, clambering hurriedly into Hannibal's Bentley and sliding onto the passenger seat beside him. Hannibal doesn't look at him at first, but as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, he glances over to see Will sitting there beside him, gazing at him with rapt attention. 

"I think I know what you're doing," Will says after a while as they pull up to a stop light, and Hannibal turns to face him, the red glow of the light flickering over his features, highlighting his high cheekbones and the smooth sweep of his jaw.

"And what is it you think I am doing, Will?" he murmurs.

"I'm guessing some sort of behavioral therapy," Will replies. 

Hannibal raises his eyebrows. The light changes to green and he turns back to the road, easing the car off smoothly.

"Explain," he says, without taking his eyes off the icy road.

Will considers for a moment. "Well," he says, "okay, so we're going to a motel because of what I told you happened the other night with that guy, right?" 

"Go on."

"Um, well, behavior is mostly a learned response to particular circumstance, isn't it? So, uh, I'm guessing that maybe you're going to make me face up to my negative experience in some way, so that you can modify my behavior."

Hannibal is impressed. "You're right," he says, "and how do you think I'm going to go about doing that?"

Again, there's a silence as Will considers his thoughts. "I don't know exactly," he replies. "Hypnotize me again, maybe, and – " He stops suddenly as he stares out of the window at the building looming on their right as the car begins to slow down. "Um, can I ask you something?" he says, frowning. "How the hell did you know that this was the exact same motel?"

They drive into the parking lot and Hannibal looks up out of the window at the flickering neon sign hoisted above the motel's central lobby. To be fair, he hadn't actually been aware that this was the motel Will had been talking about during their session the other day, but the fact that it's the exact same place now amuses him greatly.

"Problem?" he says, turning to Will as he turns his key and the engine dies, but after a brief moment of hesitation, Will shakes his head.

It's much colder now as they leave the car and walk towards lobby. The wind whips Will's hair into a messy frenzy and as they go inside, even Hannibal feels the need to stop and smooth his parting before approaching the desk. Will trails behind him, not wanting to give the guy on the reception desk anything to gossip about, although he catches a smirk in his direction when Hannibal requests a room with a king sized bed. Having paid for one night and obtained a key, Hannibal heads back outside with Will still trailing behind him.

"At least it's not the same room," Will mutters as they reach their door and Hannibal fits the key in the lock and gives it a sharp turn before pushing it open.

The inside of the room is dominated by the huge bed, which is dressed in a garish patterned throw and quilted cushions in various noisy colors. Will stands in the middle of the room, hands in his coat pockets, watching as Hannibal closes and locks the door, flicks on the lights and pulls down the shade before removing his coat and draping it neatly over the nearest chair. "Take your jacket off, Will," he says, "and then come and stand over here." 

Will hesitates but Hannibal waits patiently.

"Come on," he says again, gesturing this time with his hand.

Twitching his shoulders a little and sucking in a deep breath, Will shrugs out of his jacket and loosely throws it over Hannibal's before he slowly approaches. 

"That's right," Hannibal says softly, his face half in shadow. "Come closer. A little closer, Will."

As Will shuffles a little nearer, it seems he can no longer bear to maintain eye contact and he bows his head to avoid it. Hannibal follows his gaze, looking down to see that the tips of Will's scuffed brown shoes are almost touching his own polished patent lace-ups. 

"That's it," Hannibal whispers. "A little closer. That's perfect." 

He waits and when Will's nervous eyes eventually flick up to make contact with his own, he suddenly grabs him by the shoulders, swings him round and grasps his wrists, twisting them together and pinning them above his head as he slams him face first against the wall. Will cries out in shocked protest and starts to struggle, but Hannibal has him firmly in his grip, one hand still holding his wrists and the other around his middle as he presses himself hard against Will's angry, unyielding body.

"Keep still," he orders as he shakes him, his low voice gruff and commanding.

"But you're - you're hurting me," Will huffs out. "Let me go!"

Hannibal doesn't reply but pushes harder, gripping him tightly and reveling in the ripple of Will's muscles under his grip as the smaller man tries to free himself, and then, as he gropes for the buckle on Will's belt, he puts his mouth to his ear and again growls, "Keep still."

Will, however, continues to struggle. "What the hell are you doing?" he says again, his words muffled against the wall as he tries to jerk his hips out of Hannibal's grasp. "This isn't even funny."

Hannibal, by now, has worked Will's pants open and he hears him gasp as they're yanked down hard along with his underwear.

"Please, Dr. Lecter," he groans.

"Please what, Will?" Hannibal breathes in his ear, and suddenly, and because he can resist it no longer, he tongues a hot, wet stripe up the side of Will's neck towards his ear. The taste of his salty, confused sweat sends an immediate twinge to Hannibal's groin and he presses himself even harder against him. "Please you want me to let you go?" he asks, hissing in his ear, "or please you want me to make you come so hard you feel like you're going to explode?"

A strangled gasp erupts from Will's throat and then he sags in Hannibal's arms as all the fight suddenly drains out of him.

"I take it that's your answer?" Hannibal says, and then he's spitting on his fingers. "Spread your legs," he hisses, and Will, panting hard but obedient now, shifts his feet within the confines of the pants now pooled around his ankles. Hannibal knows it must seem harsh, this rough treatment, and still expecting Will to fight, he keeps a tight grip on his wrists, and then his fingers are sliding into Will's cleft, and with one finger he caresses his opening before starting to push inside him. Will grunts as he's penetrated but when Hannibal adds a second finger, he jerks his hips and cries out.

"Does that hurt?" Hannibal whispers in his ear.

"Yeah, a little," Will confesses, nodding.

"The good hurt you told me about?"

Will nods again. "Yeah."

There's a groan of disappointment from him as he feels the probing fingers sliding out of him, but Hannibal just sucks on them, spits on them some more and then he's pushing them back inside him. Will gasps, spreading his legs still further and pushing back hard.

"I can fuck you if you want me to," Hannibal breathes into his ear, "but I'll have to release you first. Will you fight me if I do?" 

Will seems to hesitate at first but then his head sags forward. "No," he says. "Please. I – I want you to fuck me."

As Hannibal releases his wrists, he still almost expects Will to make a run for it, but he doesn't, he just stays there, obediently supporting himself with his palms flat to the wall now, panting hard in anticipation and with his erection jutting up stiffly from beneath his shirt.

Hannibal quickly unfastens his own pants and then he fumbles a condom out of his pocket, preparing himself before pressing the tip of his cock between Will's cheeks and allowing it to nestle there. 

"You sure you want me to do this?" he whispers. He slides his thumb through the curls at Will's nape, baring his skin before kissing it tenderly and Will shivers beneath the soft caress of both Hannibal's hand and lips.

"Fuck me," he whispers. "Hannibal, please."

On hearing his name on Will's lips, Hannibal, with one hand sliding up under Will's shirt to caress a hard nipple and the other grasping his hip, begins to push inside him, slowly rocking his way in, inch by inch. Feeling Will's body tensing up, he strokes his sides and again kisses his nape. "Relax," he says, waiting for Will's muscles to loosen before starting to push inside him once more. "Better?" he asks a few moments later.

"Yeah," Will replies, panting again, his voice needy and gruff. "Feels good."

Hannibal nods and nudges deeper until he's finally buried deep in Will's tight, velvety heat. There's a series of muffled groans from Will, but he holds himself steady as Hannibal drags himself half way out, working up more spit under his tongue then releasing it and allowing it to pool down onto his cock before working himself carefully back inside him.

"You feel so good, Will," he breathes. "So hot and so tight." 

Will's head is slumped forward again now, hanging down between his shoulders, but he pushes back hard as Hannibal starts to thrust. 

"Oh, fuck," he moans.

"Is that good, Will?"

"Oh, God, yeah."

Hannibal begins to thrust a little deeper – slowly at first, because after all, he doesn't want to hurt Will, at least not too much or it'll spoil things later – but then he begins to pick up his pace, thrusting repeatedly into Will's taut body, deeper and harder with his hands on his hips holding him steady, and Will throws his head back now, groaning and whining, arching his neck and then crying out as Hannibal bites down hard on the tender flesh beneath his ear. Groping around him with one hand, Hannibal grasps Will's erection and he jacks it in his fist in time to his thrusts, making Will cry out with ragged breathless moans that erupt from somewhere deep in his throat. Suddenly though, he realizes he's already quite close himself and so he deliberately slows down his stroke, keeping still before dragging himself almost all the way out of Will and then pushing himself slowly and deliberately back in. He keeps sliding his fist with long, lazy strokes until he feels Will's body tensing up and he then increases his speed, thrusting in harder, faster, his fingers tight around Will's cock in his hand, pumping him hard.

"Oh fuck," Will cries. "Oh, Hannibal, I think I'm ... Oh, God, I'm so close ... I'm gonna – I think I'm gonna come ... Oh, God ... oh fuck." He's leaning back now, pushing himself away from the wall with his hands, elbows locked and back arched, moaning, the sweat slick on his face and neck and then he's shouting, "Oh, God, oh fuck, oh my God, Hannibal, ohhh, ohhh, fuck ..."

Hannibal holds him close, riding out the waves with him, feeling the pulse of him in his hand as semen decorates the wall, and then he's coming himself, grasping Will tightly in his arms with his eyes screwed shut as he fucks hard up into him, groaning with pleasure deep down in his throat.

At first they stand together, just leaning against the wall, panting hard, and then Hannibal eventually releases him, instantly missing the damp warmth of Will's sweat-soaked body from his arms, as well as the clutch of the heat inside him. Will stumbles away from the wall, hindered by the pants which still shackle his ankles and he kicks them off along with his shoes and socks as he staggers towards the bed. The shirt comes off next, and for once Hannibal doesn't mind the mess he makes as Will throws it behind him, watching as it flutters to the floor to lie at his feet in a crumpled heap. Will throws himself onto the bed then and he lies there on his back at first, his gleaming chest heaving and his abdomen all spattered with the shiny, wet traces of his own mess, but after a few moments he sighs as he rolls away onto his side and curls up there, facing the wall.

Hannibal watches him for a while, enjoying the smooth lines of his naked buttocks and thighs and the way the sculpted muscles of his back shiver as his flanks move to the rhythm of his harsh breaths, and he finds he has to tear his eyes away from the beautiful sight in order to cross to the bathroom where he strips off his own clothes, laying them neatly over the edge of the bath before wiping himself clean with a damp towel. 

"Are you okay?" he murmurs, naked as returns to the bed with a second towel for Will, who is still facing away from him.

Will stirs, breath still heavy. "What?" he groans.

Hannibal sits down on the edge of the bed. "I asked if you're okay," he says.

Will turns slightly. "Actually, I'm a lot more than okay," he says. He wriggles himself over onto his back and his eyes are solemn as he gazes up at Hannibal, and his voice when he speaks is filled with fervent gratitude. "Thank you," he says.

Hannibal is amused. "Thank you?" he questions.

"Yes," Will confirms, nodding and smiling. "What I mean to say is ... thank you for what you just did for me, because _that_ was the orgasm of a lifetime."

It sounds like a challenge to Hannibal, and one which he's more than willing to take – oh, the things he would like to do to Will Graham if he were given the chance. 

"You're not angry with me then?" he asks.

Will's eyes widen in surprise. "What?" he says. "God, no. Why would I be angry?"

"You know why."

Will considers. "I guess some would say the treatment was rather ... _unorthodox_ ," he says, smiling then, knowing it's a word that Hannibal likes to use a lot and Hannibal can't help but smile back. "But I guess it worked out though, right? I mean, forcing me up against the wall like that ... it was like my cop fantasy combined with ... what did you call it? Um, my _last successful sexual encounter?"_ He looks away and then back at Hannibal and Hannibal nods. "At least now I'll have a great memory of sex in a motel room," he says, "unlike that fuck-up that happened with that guy last week." He pauses, blushing a little. "I think," he says, "that you were, uh, well, probably ... I think you were just being a good doctor, if I'm honest." The blush deepens and his eyes flick away again and then back a moment later to meet Hannibal's. "Or maybe ... maybe there's more to it than that?" he adds hopefully. 

At that, Hannibal wants to say yes, but he knows he shouldn't, not really. Instead, he reaches out a tentative hand to Will, surprised when the younger man takes it, pressing the palm to his face and nuzzling his cheek against it and then Hannibal, despite himself and all his better judgments, is leaning down, capturing Will's lips with his own as he kisses him full on the mouth, his probing tongue fully tasting him at last. Will gasps, eager to accept Hannibal's tongue into his mouth, and as Hannibal slides onto the bed beside him, pressing his body close as he covers him, he pushes up his hips to match the older man's keen thrusts against him.

"Do you want me make you come again?" Hannibal says, his words falling straight from his lips into Will's eager mouth. He pulls back slightly, listening to Wills whispered, "Yes, oh yes," and then he grasps his jaw, dragging his mouth back up towards his own again and kisses him deeply. 

With Will still wrapped in his grip, Hannibal drags a pillow towards him and tucks it neatly under Will's hips, positioning him and tilting him before leaning down to lap at the wet which still glistens on his belly. "Open your legs," he commands, and Will obeys, spreading his knees wide as he tugs excitedly on his half-hard cock and he watches with bright eyes as Hannibal rolls a fresh condom down over himself before groaning loudly as he's entered once more. As Hannibal leans down to kiss him, their tongues tangling wetly, he delights in the feel of Will's fingers clutching at his back. The heat he repeatedly pushes into is so, so tight and he watches the deepening creases on Will's face with satisfaction as he starts to thrust inside him – light, short thrusts at first, but getting longer, deeper, harder, and Will responds, his chin jutting up, his fingers wrapped around his cock, teeth gritted and eyes closed. He grunts softly with each inward thrust but as Hannibal speeds up he begins to thrash and cry out and when, some minutes later, he finally comes with a shout and his eyes roll up and back in his head, Hannibal isn't too far behind him.

 

The next night, Hannibal opens the door to find Will in his waiting room, exactly on time.

"Hello, Will," he says softly. 

"Hi," Will says. His smile is shy as he shuffles somewhat awkwardly into the consulting room. "Um, I – uh, I missed seeing you this morning. Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"

Hannibal had wondered how Will would feel, waking up alone to find him gone in the grey light of morning, but seeing him now, his cheeks hollow and his dark-fringed eyes scared but hopeful, he realizes he knows exactly what he must have felt, because it's a lot of what Hannibal is feeling himself at the moment.

"About that," he says, after clearing his throat, "and about last night. I need to talk to you about what happened, Will. _We_ need to talk about what happened."

He gestures to their usual seats, and Will, looking nervous and also somewhat disappointed, follows him before accepting the polite invitation to sit down. 

"The first thing I want to do is apologize, Will," Hannibal says, and as Will starts to protest, he holds up his hand. "Please allow me to finish," he says. "You see, Will, I have some serious misgivings about my methods of treatment of you in this incidence. Upon reflection, I realize I should not have met you in that bar, let alone taken you to that motel, and as for my behavior once we were there ... well, my fear is that you'll eventually come to believe that I have taken advantage of you, if you don't believe it already."

"Hannibal, no," Will says in protest. As always, there's that jolt of pleasure he feels whenever Will uses his first name, and he's lost for a moment in the memory of the way Will had felt in his arms: the warm smell of him, the softness of his skin and the slick, hot insides of him, clutching at his cock. "It's more like the other way round," Will is continuing, and Hannibal forces himself to concentrate on his words. "Surely I'm the one who took advantage of you? And besides, look how the treatment worked!" He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Three times I jacked off this morning," he says, "and God, how I wish you'd been there to see me do it."

Hannibal can't help smiling at Will's delighted enthusiasm. "I am very glad for you, Will," he says, "but that still doesn't excuse my behavior last night." He reaches for his notebook, and from between its pages he pulls out the thick creamy envelope, the one he'd addressed last night, and he leans forward, holding it out to Will who, after staring at it for a few wary moments, accepts it with reluctance into his hand.

"What's this?" he says, looking down and turning the envelope over. His name is written on the front in Hannibal's distinctive cursive, along with the name of another doctor:

_For the attention of Dr. Bedelia du Maurier  
Re: Mr. William Graham_

Hannibal clears his throat. "It's a letter of referral." 

"What? But why?"

"I'm referring you to an esteemed colleague of mine. It's for the best, Will. I have crossed professional lines with you and in doing so, I have violated our doctor and patient relationship. I can't continue as your doctor anymore."

"I really don't care about that," Will says. "I don't need to see another psychiatrist anyway. Besides, I don't want to stop seeing you. I - "

"Will, please. I've made my decision. You'll just have to accept what I am saying."

"But I don't accept it."

Hannibal can see the bitter disappointment on Will's face, and he has to resist a strong urge to fall to his knees and pull him into his arms – or maybe even to bury his face in his crotch.

"Well, you'll have to," he insists, standing up instead. "Besides, I have already completed all the necessary paperwork. Once you cross the threshold and leave this office, you will no longer be my patient. Now, if you'll allow me to, I'll escort you to the door."

"I don't get this," Will says, shaking his head. "It feels like you're throwing me out but last night, well, you really made me feel something, something I –" 

"Will, please," Hannibal says with a warning glare. "I must insist." 

Will frowns as he stomps his way to the door, but as they cross into the hallway Hannibal uses as a private exit for his patients, he catches Will by the elbow. "Not so fast," he says. "Now that we're out of the consulting room, I have a proposition for you." He hadn't intended his smile to be quite so wide at this point of course, but for some reason he can't help it spreading all over his face. "As we're no longer officially doctor and patient anymore," he says, "I was wondering – well, I was wondering if you'd care to accompany me out to dinner this evening."

Will suddenly lifts his eyes, and they are gratifyingly large and round as the disappointed frown irons itself out from his brow. "Wait a minute," he says. "What are you saying?" and as Hannibal smiles at him, Will grins shyly back. "You mean like _out_ as in out on a date, right?" he says. "I have got this right?"

"We can call it a date if you like," Hannibal confirms, "although it does seem charmingly old-fashioned considering we are already ... _acquainted._ " He smiles again as he pulls on his coat and indicates the outside door. "After you then, Will."

Later, much later, after the wine and the meal with shy glances and fingers touching across the candlelit table, after the sex and with Will's warm, drowsy body wrapped closely around his own in the dark, Hannibal considers his interactions with the man in his arms over the last few weeks and he reflects on the success so far of his plan – not only of what he'd set out to do, but also of how much he has already accomplished. 

It'll soon be time for the next stage, he realizes. But not yet. He doesn't think he can face it just yet, and besides, he isn't entirely sure that he wants to do it now anyway. It's all been too easy – too easy by far, so maybe he just won't do it at all. Perhaps there's an alternative? And besides, he really hadn't been prepared for how rapidly these strong feelings for Will would develop.

Maybe he'll – 

Suddenly, Will sighs in his sleep, and it's such a soft gentle sigh of contentment that it halts the flow of Hannibal's thoughts completely. He holds still as the younger man nuzzles himself even closer under his chin, while the warm breath of him tickles his shoulder. Somewhat touched by this, he pulls Will closer, burying his nose into the soft, damp curls behind his ear and inhaling his drowsy-soft scent as he basks, not just in the warmth of the man, but also in his need and the sense of dependency he's created between them. 

Hannibal realizes he's far too exhausted to think clearly about any of these things now, and besides, he feels so comfortable and peaceful with Will cocooned in his arms that he doesn't really want to think about any of it at all, although the thought still nags away at the back of his mind.

_To cherish Will Graham, or to shatter his heart? Which is it going to be?_

Shaking his head, he decides he won't think about it just yet, because for now all he wants to do is lie back, cradle Will Graham in his arms and allow himself to drift off into a deep and comfortable sleep.

He can make up his mind in the morning.


End file.
